


Brand New Box of Matches

by GotTheSilver



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, Family, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15201008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: Draining the martini, Debbie rests her chin in her hand and looks at the elegant, simple letters of her brother’s name.  “What would you do?” she asks out loud.  “You knew Lou, you knew me, how do I—”“Want to know what your brother did to get me to stay one time?” comes the interruption from a familiar voice, and she looks to her side to see Rusty standing where Reuben had been when she first came here.“You guys switching up standing guard over him or something?” Debbie tilts her head.  “Please don’t tell me you left something in with him that you need back.”





	Brand New Box of Matches

**Author's Note:**

> because I happened to notice that Debbie eats like Rusty eats and that inspired Thoughts, so here we are.

Debbie’s still sitting in front of Danny’s marker when the text comes through. A view off the PCH that Lou’s currently riding her bike along, just a picture, no words. Draining the martini, Debbie rests her chin in her hand and looks at the elegant, simple letters of her brother’s name. “What would you do?” she asks out loud. “You knew Lou, you knew me, how do I—”

“Want to know what your brother did to get me to stay one time?” comes the interruption from a familiar voice, and she looks to her side to see Rusty standing where Reuben had been when she first came here.

“You guys switching up standing guard over him or something?” Debbie tilts her head. “Please don’t tell me you left something in with him that you need back.”

“No, nothing like that,” Rusty says as he walks over. “Just—it’s weird without him here.”

Up close, Debbie can see the shadows under Rusty’s eyes, how much thinner he looks from the last time she saw him, and she nods her head before picking up the pot of olives. “I’m out of booze, but here,” she says. “Share with me.”

Rusty offers her a faint smile before joining her on the bench. He doesn’t look at Danny’s grave, keeps his eyes low as he fishes out an olive and puts it in his mouth. “Elegant,” he says around the olive. “The job you pulled.”

“Thanks.”

“He would’ve loved it,” Rusty says, fingers tapping against his leg. “That why you did it?”

Debbie shrugs, picking out an olive for herself. “He did the biggest casino heist of all time, I always had something to prove.”

“Not to him, you didn’t.”

Debbie makes a face, trying to ignore the well of emotion that simple comment stirs up in her gut. “Rusty—”

“Hey, I’m just saying. He was proud of you, whatever you did. Say, you manage to lure that actress over to our side?”

“Maybe,” Debbie says, eyeing Rusty. “Why? You got something in mind?”

“Me? No. With Danny gone, I’m down an ideas guy, and after Danny, no one really matches up. Except you, but I don’t think you want me crashing your party.”

“Not much of a party,” Debbie says. “We got the score, we went our separate ways, and I’m sitting here with my dead brother’s partner eating cocktail olives.”

“You’re right, this is pathetic, we should be ashamed of ourselves.”

Debbie laughs, and it echoes in the mostly empty graveyard. “He’s loving this,” she says, gesturing at Danny’s grave. “People unable to cope without him, being everyone’s North Star.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Rusty protests mildly.

“Really? You look like you haven’t been eating and I pulled off a multi-million dollar heist at the Met fucking Gala, but it’s not that bad?”

“Don’t swear in a graveyard,” Rusty says, handing her back the empty olive pot. “Maybe it is that bad.”

“So what do we do now?”

“There’s a diner across the street.”

And, for lack of better options, Debbie agrees.

*

They order a lot of food. Too much, really, but all Debbie’s eaten today are those damn olives, and she’d bet good money that Rusty’s in the same situation. He shoves fries in his mouth as Debbie pours syrup over her chocolate chip pancakes, feeling like she needs the sugar rush.

“Where’s Lou?”

“California,” Debbie says, stabbing at her pancakes a little more viciously than she intended. “Road trip.”

“Solo road trip?”

“I would’ve had to buy a helmet.”

Rusty raises an eyebrow. “And lord knows, you can’t afford that these days.”

“Shut up,” Debbie says, throwing a straw wrapper at his head. “It’s complicated, not like you and Danny.”

“Sweetheart, Danny and I were never anything _but_ complicated.”

Debbie reaches over and steals Rusty’s burger, taking a bite out of it before putting it back on his plate. “That’s for calling me sweetheart,” she says when she’s swallowed. “You always seemed like you had it figured out.”

“We did. Mostly.” Rusty leans back in the booth and looks around the diner. “Danny and I—you know when you pull off a heist and for that split second nothing can touch you?”

“Obviously.”

“That was what it was like.”

“And afterwards?”

“Afterwards is what took us years to figure out. You remember the—”

“Incan matrimonial head masks, yes Rusty, everyone remembers.”

“Well. That was afterwards.”

Debbie reaches for her milkshake and takes a long drink, trying to get her thoughts together. Afterwards has always been the problem with Lou; when they’re working together, it’s like magic, like nothing Debbie has ever known, but afterwards—Debbie gets the itch, needs to find some way to pull a con, a way to make a mark. Lou, she’s simpler, likes the freedom living this life gives her, so she’s careful, detail oriented, and can survive a lot longer without pulling big cons than Debbie can. “How’s Tess?”

“She’d like to hear from you.”

“No she wouldn’t,” Debbie says with a small smile. “But that’s okay.”

“Tess doesn’t hate you, Debbie,” Rusty says. “She doesn’t hate anyone except the woman at the art store who she swears keeps getting the wrong canvas sizes in on purpose.”

“And is she?”

“Probably.”

“Eat your onion rings, Rusty,” Debbie says as she steals a handful from his plate. “You look awful.”

“Thanks,” Rusty says. “You need to work on your conversational skills.”

“People keep telling me that.”

Debbie’s phone goes off again and she looks at it, seeing the notification from Lou and flicking it open. It’s a night sky, the stars ridiculously bright, and Debbie purses her lips before pocketing her phone without responding. “How did he get you to stay?” she asks, meeting Rusty’s eyes.

There’s a pause before Rusty leans forward, a spark in his eyes that Debbie hasn’t seen all afternoon. “He asked,” he says, a slow smile on his face. “You Oceans, you make everything so complicated when it can be simple.”

“No we—” Debbie breaks off and holds a hand up. “Maybe we do. But that’s why Danny had you, why I have Lou.”

“So what are you doing here?” Rusty asks, his hand wrapping around his coffee mug. “She’s sending you those photos for a reason. Go buy a helmet. Go find her.”

“You old romantic.”

Rusty ducks his head and smiles down at his coffee. “Maybe once upon a time.”

“You got this?” Debbie asks, suddenly impatient as she shoves a last bite of pancake in her mouth.

“Go,” Rusty says, passing an ID and plane ticket across the table. “Tell Lou that Yen says hi. Stay in touch.”

Debbie stares at the ID and ticket, then up at Rusty, before she taps her fingers against them and shakes her head. “You didn’t have to,” she says, even as she takes them and slips them into her bag.

“Danny would’ve wanted me to. Come visit when you get the chance. Bring Lou, Tess’ll get a kick out of her.”

Sliding out of the booth, Debbie stands up and offers him a small smile. “See you around, Rusty.”

“Take care of yourself, kid.”

Debbie narrows her eyes at that and ruffles Rusty’s hair in response before taking a breath and walking out of the diner. Taking her phone out of her pocket she taps out a message to Lou; _Buying a helmet, meet me in SF_. Sliding her phone back in her pocket, Debbie pauses in front of a shopfront and fixes her bow tie, Danny’s voice echoing in her head from the first time he ever taught her to do it. “We’re Oceans,” she whispers to herself. “We gotta look sharp.”


End file.
